


hole-dwelling

by spacelamps



Series: fall back into place [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: ... kinda, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Dissociation, Gen, Mentions of Blood, P5R Bad End, Panic Attacks, major character death/undeath?, mostly mentioned futaba & mona have like three lines each, persona 5 royal spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28893627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacelamps/pseuds/spacelamps
Summary: it’s better to live a truth, regardless of how badly it hurts, than to live in a lie, blissfully unaware of the world.unfortunately, that isn’t his call to make anymore.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: fall back into place [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120121
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	hole-dwelling

**Author's Note:**

> looks at the "dissociation" (specifically "dereality") & "panic attacks" tags  
> hi heed those please!!!! also this has MAJOR p5r spoilers. if you aren't past 1/9 please... please don't read this... unless you know what's happening please don't read this i don't wanna spoil y'all...
> 
> anyway. looks directly @ hole-dwelling by kikuo and cries. (it fits the p5r bad end so well...)  
> also if i write and post fluff just assume it'll inevitably be followed by angst i have one thing i'm good at and that's writing angst.
> 
> this also has an accompanying [edit](https://www.instagram.com/p/CKXFqSgjNdi/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) that i made! both were inspired by each other, but i also heard the audio on instagram and the second my brain linked it to the bad end i was already writing something. SO. yeah there's that. (i also have a spotify playlist for this fic/au! if you guys want that i can edit this with the link!)

A chill shoots down his spine as he looks around, and he shivers.

It’s hard to put into words how _disturbing_ it is, walking around the city and seeing people with eerily-plastered smiles. Fake happiness shines from everywhere and coats every person’s memory and brain and Akira wants to stand up and scream that it _isn’t real._

He’s tired of the bone-chilling feeling he gets whenever he wakes up to another day in this false reality. He’s tired of how disturbing it is seeing his friends walking around, acting like the last years of their lives had never happened.

He’s tried pulling his friends from their dreams, regardless of how badly he wants them to be happy.

(because he _does._ he wants his friends to be happy because it’s what they deserve, but it’s something that they should be able to get with their own two hands, not just handed over to them in the form of a false reality.)

He knows some of them have memories of their true reality—the unease Haru has when she sees Akechi behind Akira, the way Futaba runs the opposite direction once she takes note of Akechi. And if not memories, then feelings or sensations or something in the back of their mind that _is_ telling them this is wrong, even if they fight to ignore it.

(he knows that akechi being there wasn’t helping, but they were already out together anyway when they happened to show up, and…)

But it doesn’t matter.

He looks around, hoping that maybe his friends are hiding somewhere, that it’s not just him and Akechi outside Maruki’s Palace on the 9th. 

But it is, and Akechi holds it over his head for a moment before realizing how defeated Akira is, to which he sighs and brings them into the Metaverse.

“Are you going to be useless to me, Joker?” he asks, eyes narrowed behind his mask as he turns to face Akira.

Akira has never felt less like Joker, but he forces himself to match Crow’s steady gaze and forces himself to relax, scoffing in half-hearted amusement.

“Let’s just hope you can keep up, Crow,” he challenges, and watches with slight hesitancy as Crow’s expression flickers behind his mask, before the other finally huffs in amusement.

“We’ll see about that.”

They take off, careful in their advancement to the auditorium.

It doesn’t take them long to get there, and once they arrive they’re both startled to see Yoshizawa with Maruki.

It goes downhill rather quickly from there.

It hurts, watching Sumire in pain like this. Part of Akira _wants_ to let Sumire live a life without pain, and if that’s pretending to be her sister, then so be it.

But logic wins over every time. It isn’t healthy. It’s better for her to live the truth—even if it _hurts_ —than to live in a lie, blissfully unaware of the world. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like he’ll get to make that call anymore—or, at least, any time soon.

He’s down on a knee, holding his side and wheezing. He tastes blood and he coughs, spitting it to the side. He glances to his left, watching as Crow tries to push himself back up while heavily leaning on his sword.

They’re both out of energy, and they’re disastrously low on energy.

“It’d be a- perfect time for your _friends_ to show,” Crow grunts. Joker snorts, holding his side as he stumbles.

“It would, wouldn’t it?”

Akira glances toward the exit, as if wishing for something to happen. For his friends to realize that they were living in a lie and to show up, saving the day. For Crow’s words to come true.

Instead, he forces himself to his feet and exchanges a glance with Crow.

It’s a wordless conversation. A fire rekindles and burns, weak yet unyielding, behind both their masks.

They won’t go down without a fight.

(and go down with a fight they do.)

* * *

He blinks awake, staring up at the rafters of the attic and the dust particles drifting by, illuminated by the stream of sunlight from his window.

He feels like he’s chasing the remnants of a dream.

Eyebrows furrowed, he rolls over onto his side and shuts his eyes, trying to remember it. It’d been strange—some weird place with white walls and ceilings and floors with monsters and strange costumes. He remembers a flash of red hair and eyes hidden beneath a black mask, eyes filtered red, but…

“Hey, Akira,” someone says, and Akira sighs, rolling over to see who was calling him. “You coming?”

Akira raises his head, squinting at the person standing on the landing, and makes out the form of Morgana.

At his silence, Morgana sighs. “Haru and Makoto’s graduation?”

Akira blinks, staring at Morgana, before glancing toward his phone on the window sill. “Shit, did I oversleep my alarm?” he asks, suddenly much more awake. He sits up, throwing the covers back as he grabs his phone to see the date.

“I’m not even sure it went off,” Morgana admits, laughing as he watches Akira run around the attic. “I’ll meet you downstairs! Boss’ll have food if you’re fast enough.”

It takes a grand total of three minutes for Akira to fumble down the steps of the attic, and two more for him to finish getting ready in the restroom. By the time he finishes, Sojiro is setting down a cup of coffee at an empty seat between Futaba and Morgana.

“Took you long enough,” Futaba jokes, slouching over the counter to poke Akira’s face. She laughs.

“He overslept,” Morgana says, watching in amusement as Futaba snatches her hand away when Akira turns around and acts like he’s about to bite it.

“Of _course_ he did,” Wakaba teases, looking over at him from her seat in the booth. “When does he not?”

“I keep telling him he needs to sleep early!” Morgana adds—the traitor.

Akira sticks his tongue out at him and turns to his food, shoveling it in his mouth as he tries to listen in on the conversations around him. 

An easy conversation floats around the cafe. Akira loses himself into it, nodding and inputting his own opinion whenever he surfaces from his food.

“Alright, it’s time for you kids to get going,” Sojiro finally says, hand on his hip as he looks at the three sitting at the bar. “Get out.”

* * *

It’s bittersweet, sitting in the audience of his friends’ graduation. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to them, but he knows they’ll all still see each other. They’re both going to college somewhere in Tokyo, so meetups wouldn’t be impossible.

It felt almost perfect.

(a small part of him quietly whispers, _a little too perfect, don’t you think?,_ but it’s easy to brush away as something else.)

They all gather outside the gates of Shujin, trying to spot Makoto and Haru amongst the other graduating seniors.

Once they’re spotted, they excitedly call out to them, waving them down. The two girls grin and walk over, immediately met with Ann who rushes to hug them.

They fall into an easy conversation—Futaba talks about going to Shujin come the new semester, while Morgana and Yusuke mention thinking about transferring.

Kasumi runs over, breathless but wanting to wish the best for the graduated seniors, and Haru comes up with the idea of taking a picture.

As if those were the magic words, Goro walks up to their group and says that he’ll be their cameraman. Makoto and Haru look equally surprised yet pleased to see him.

Goro mentions wanting to get into freelance when Makoto prompts him, and Futaba laughs and tells him to not become a shut-in.

From there, it turns into Goro trying to herd everyone together, taking Ann’s phone when offered so he could take a picture of everyone. He’s shifting around, trying to figure out the best way to get everyone in the frame, when a voice cuts in.

(a sudden pain shoots through akira’s temple.)

“Would you rather I take that for you?” the new voice asks. The group (Goro included) all turn to face the man. Akira wonders, briefly, how he’s able to see with his hat pulled down so far over his eyes. “You’re all friends, right?”

(the phantom taste of blood lingers in his mouth and he feels injuries he’s never had.)

Goro glances over, as if asking the group’s permission, and at everyone’s insistence he carefully hands Ann’s phone over to the man and walks over, standing next to Morgana ~~looking happier than Akira remembers seeing him.~~

“Okay, ready?”

(this feels wrong.)

“Say cheese…”

(and then it’s gone.)

Akira watches, quietly, staring down the man as he leaves. Behind him, his friends shout their thanks from their position huddled around Ann’s phone, but his world feels off-kilter.

He turns, walking back to his friends to see the picture taken on someone’s phone, and is met with a concerned glance from Goro.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, words gentle.

(he can’t place it, but something seems strange.)

(something seems off. why’s he speaking to him like that?)

Akira shakes his head and offers Goro a smile. “Yeah, sorry.”

Goro studies him for a moment, a small frown on his face, before he relaxes and nods. “Alright.”

And, stupidly, like the impulse that Akira knows he has, he sticks his hands in his pockets and glances at Goro. “Want coffee after we get lunch?”

Goro stares at him for a moment again, always calculating, and finally smiles. (it feels plastic and wrong but that can’t be right that’s his normal smile.) “I’d love to.”

“Hey lovebirds!” Futaba shouts, causing the both of them to flush. Goro squawks, head snapping over to his sister as he _vehemently_ protests that he and Akira are _not_ a thing, would everyone _please_ stop assuming that-

“Yeah, yeah, just c’mon!” she says, aggressively waving her arms up and down by her sides. “Food time!!!!”

Akira laughs, slightly high pitched as he shoves his hands further into his pockets and follows behind the group, Goro on his heels.

* * *

“Alright, Akira,” Goro says, chessboard placed on the bar. “Your move.”

It’s their habit, Akira thinks with an easy smile as he finishes up Goro’s coffee. Goro sets up the chessboard while Akira makes them both coffee.

Even when Akira’s out of it, it’s still easy to fall back into habit.

(is it really a habit? this can’t be right, ~~goro~~ never came to leblanc this often-)

“Not even gonna let me finish making two cups of coffee?” he teases, setting Goro’s cup next to his left hand. This earns him a huffed laugh and an eye roll.

“It won’t kill you to multitask,” Goro says, watching with curiosity as Akira moves a pawn.

“No, but you might,” Akira jokes, cracking a smile at Goro’s playfully offended look.

(something seems off about that remark. something seems a little too _true_ about that remark.)

(but why?)

(akira doesn’t realize it, but he’s fallen further back into his own head. he looks at his hands as he makes the second cup of coffee, and has to briefly remind himself that those _are_ his hands.)

Goro laughs. “I guess we’ll just have to see, hm?”

(akira swears that a look of ~~concern pity something that shouldn’t be an expression _this goro wears_~~ something crosses goro’s face before he’d laughed, but akira isn’t entirely there at the moment, so he can’t trust himself.)

“Hope it doesn’t happen then, Detective,” Akira says lightly, taking a sip of the coffee he’d just finished, before setting it down on the bar and wheezing. “Too hot.”

Akira hears a frustrated sigh and the sound of a chair scooting backwards. “Are you alright, Akira?” He blinks, glancing up from his hunched-over position to face Goro, who was walking around the counter to him.

“Boss doesn’t like customers back here,” Akira says lightly, a confused expression pinching his face as he looks at Goro.

“He’ll get over it,” Goro says, crossing his arms. He narrows his eyes, and suddenly Akira feels like an insect under a microscope.

“Uh… Goro, is everything-”

“You’ve been acting off since that man took our picture at Haru and Makoto’s graduation,” he says. “Is everything alright?”

At the mention of the stranger, Akira winces, reaching up to hold his head.

(two versions of him clash in his mind; that of a high school therapist turned wannabe-god and the kind stranger who’d taken their photo earlier. akira doesn’t know which one is real.)

He doesn’t realize he’s stumbled until he feels hands on his arms.

“Akira,” Goro says, sternly. Akira reaches out, latching onto the sound of Goro’s voice. “Is everything okay?”

(his head hurts he wants to scream he thinks he might be crying something’s wrong something)

“I’m taking you upstairs,” Goro decides, maneuvering around Akira. He shoves lightly at his back and herds Akira out from behind the bar and up the steps of LeBlanc, into the attic. “You need to sit down before you pass out.”

(cute. he sounds worried. ~~akechi never~~ )

Akira comes back to find himself sitting on the couch, a worried Goro in his field of vision.

“Akira, can you hear me?”

He nods.

“Good. Can you answer a question for me?”

Akira shrugs, and he hears Goro sigh and mumble a quiet _good enough_ under his breath.

“Can you tell me today’s date?”

“It’s-” His voice catches. His immediate instinct is to say March 15th, but that can’t be right. It’s January 9th? No. Yes. No?? His hands find his hair and he tugs harshly.

Goro’s hands find his and he tries to pull his hands from his hair.

“Akira, _focus on me_ ,” Goro says, sounding strained. (he sounds close to snapping.) “It’s March 15th, okay? It’s not January.”

Oh. Had… he said that outloud? He stares at Goro for a moment before the other sighs.

“Alright. Can you tell me five things you see?”

“Y- you,” Akira manages, before he tries to look around. “Uh. B- bed. Floor.” Something’s missing. Where’s- no, why did he think Morgana was a cat…? He shifts his attention around the room. “My- my desk. The table.”

“Four things you can feel?”

Akira squeezes their hands weakly. Goro tightens his grip. “My clothes.” They felt hyperrealistic and uncomfortable and he needed his jacket _off_ but they were something he could feel- “Uhm.” Intelligent. But it was frustration- all he could feel were his _clothes_ —the weight of his jacket, the fabric of his turtleneck and the stiffness of his pants and the way his socks were suddenly the most uncomfortable thing in the world and-

“Hey, come back to me,” Goro says, squeezing their hands. “If you can’t think of something to feel, what about-”

“Wrong.” Akira isn’t aware he’s speaking and isn’t aware that he’s beginning to shake and fight ~~Ake-~~ Goro’s grip. “Wrong wrong wrong _wrong_ _wrong wrong_ ** _wrong_**.”

The rest of what Goro’s saying drowns out. He tastes iron—he’s not biting his tongue or the inside of his mouth. He doesn’t know where the taste of blood is coming from but he feels like he’s about to cough it up.

He feels a phantom pain in his stomach and he keeps seeing two things at once—the Goro in front of him surrounded by the comfortable, familiar space of LeBlanc, and a Goro with a black mask and a stupid costume surrounded by pristine white, destroyed by splotches of red and black.

He jerks out of ~~Akech-~~ Goro’s grip and feels himself shaking, scrambling as far back into the couch as he can physically move as he tries to sort through his emotions and feelings.

Emotions are bubbling in his chest and clawing up his throat and he can’t manage to put a finger on them despite his inherent need to put a name to it and. What are they? What… is he feeling?

It’s… something. wrong. 

Wrong?

WroNG.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong somethingswrongsomethingswrongsomethingswrong SOMETHING’S _WRONG_ AND HE CAN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT IT _IS_ -

Above him, he’s vaguely aware of ~~Goro~~ scrambling to ground him without touching him, trying to call his name, but he can’t _focus_ he can’t _make sense of the_ **_words_ ** _because everything feels like it’s crashing down and choking him and there’s blood in his mouth and oh_ **_god_ ** _what’s going on he hasn’t felt like this since the engine room when the partition door slammed down and blocked him and_

Wait that.

Had that.

That hadn’t

what

what was re a l nothing was real this was fake this was fake **THIS HAD TO BE** **_FAKE_ **

His eyes are glazed over and he can still feel the rampant swirl of emotions in his chest, but _something_ bubbles through and Akira finds himself laughing, bubbling and spilling out between his hands clasped over his mouth. He’s aware, loosely, barely, of the eyes staring at him, trained on him, a mix of fear and confusion and horror and Akira’s _laughing_ , the fog gone from his head and the sound of glass shattering somewhere in the back of his mind as his hands fall to hover above his lap, laughter gone in a flash.

He stares at his hands, his lap, eyes glazed over with the fog _finally_ gone from his head. “This isn’t real,” he says, voice strained in a mixture between realization, relief, and horror. He’s staring at something he can’t see, something that Akechi can’t make sense of. “We’re still in Maruki’s reality.”

Before he even thinks about blinking, Akechi’s lunging across and grabbing the outside of his jacket, fisting the fabric and pulling Akira to face him. His head lolls slightly, eyes wide as he stares up into Akechi’s as he’s forcefully shaken.

“What did you _do_?” he snaps, close to a shout. His eyes are wide and brimming with rage and uncertainty.

_But mostly rage,_ Akira’s addled mind helpfully supplies, which prompts a snort. 

But the laughter is back again, bubbling up in his chest between the panic and fear and anxiety and every negative emotion known to man and he’s _laughing_. “I- I didn’t _do_ anything,” he says, wheezing. He forces himself to meet Akechi’s expression again, for just a brief second to meet his range, and he’s back to tipping his head back and maniacally laughing. “We didn’t- we didn’t do anything but _lose_ , Akechi! Don’t- hah- don’t you remember?”

Akechi’s slowly starting to look horrified, and- hah! Isn’t _that_ an expression on him! Akira laughs, hands clasping around Akechi’s wrists. “We _died_ Akechi! Sumire’s Persona went berserk because of Maruki and killed us!”

Akechi stares at Akira in horror before aggressively shaking his hands, trying to detach Akira from his wrists.

“That can’t be right, I- we-” Akechi shakes his head, cutting himself off. He keeps clenching and unclenching his hands, Akira notes—probably in an attempt to ground himself.

He’s beginning to feel solid again.

Interesting.

(akira _hates_ coming down from panic attacks.)

Suddenly, Akira just feels… drained. Tired. Like he could roll over and fall asleep and not wake up.

“We have to get out,” Akechi finally says, eyes narrowed as he begins to pace, hand holding his chin. Akira finds himself watching Akechi boredly, all earlier hysterics washed out and leaving him drained.

“We don’t have the Meta-Nav, Akechi,” he points out, pulling his phone from his pocket. “There was never a need for the Phantom Thieves in this world, so-”

“We don’t have the Nav,” Akechi finishes, sighing in frustration. He loops around and flops ungracefully onto the couch, on the opposite end from Akira.

Akira sighs, pulling his knees up to his chest. His heels rest on the edge of the couch and he wraps his arms around his knees, resting his chin on his knees.

“We’re really stuck here,” Akira murmurs.

“Without a Nav…” Akechi sighs in frustration, and from the corner of his eyes Akira can see Akechi resting his elbows on his knees to hold the back of his head.

“I don’t know if I can talk to Lavenza or Igor,” Akira admits, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I don’t know if there’s a way to get home.”

_Home._ Like they’re anywhere else other than LeBlanc.

Well, it is still LeBlanc—just… shifted slightly to the right, he supposes. Right place, wrong reality.

God, if he keeps thinking like that he’s going to dissociate again, and he already spent nearly all of his day doing just that.

He’s tired and drained and feels like his brain is still rebooting from his meltdown earlier. He wants to go to sleep, but he’s terrified that if he does, he won’t remember that their reality is fake.

“I’m scared to sleep,” he finally admits, breaking the silence. He feels Akechi’s eyes on him and he sighs, dropping his right leg so he can shift his head toward the other. “I don’t want to wake up and forget that this isn’t real.”

He watches Akechi’s expression shift, before the other sighs. “I understand.”

Silence elapses between them.

“I’m going to _kill_ Maruki.”

(akira wonders if akechi expects him to say that he shouldn’t.)

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Akira says, and he doesn’t have to be psychic to feel Akechi’s eyes dart over to him. Regardless, he doesn’t think it would be _enough_ , to stay out of this reality and go back to the real one. “Are… you and Futaba…?”

Akechi sighs. “I had my suspicions,” he admits. “Back in our true reality. Obviously, I never told her anything. I wasn’t planning on _telling_ anyone.”

The _but you see how that went_ goes unspoken.

“I wonder how Maruki found out,” Akira mumbles.

“Probably by going through our brains,” Akechi offers unhelpfully. Akira shoots him a tired glare and Akechi snorts. “Relax.”

(akira has questions he wants to ask, but he doesn't.)

As if out of spite, Akira feels himself bristle.

“Jeez. You really are like a cat,” Akechi grumbles, narrowing his eyes.

Akira snorts.

(for a brief moment, it feels like everything’s back to normal.)

(he doesn’t want this night to end; to wake up and not remember any of this, to brush it off as some bad dream.)

This time, Akira’s the one to break their silence.

“I don’t wanna forget,” he whispers, wincing at how pathetic he sounds.

“I don’t either,” Akechi responds, sounding quieter than Akira’s used to hearing. “Even with the chance of Maruki not noticing…”

“We could still wake up tomorrow without knowing…” 

Akira slowly stands from the couch, shaking out numb limbs. He tries to take a step and has to throw his arms out to keep himself from falling over.

Which, in hindsight, is probably deserved after sitting in an awkward position for so long.

He makes his way over to his desk and pulls out a pen and a post-it note. He scribbles something down, and when he’s done he holds it up to show Akechi, who migrated to stare over his shoulder while he was writing.

“Just in case,” he says, giving the other a forced smile.

Akechi gives him a half-hearted one. “Just in case.”

(when he wakes up in the morning, it’s with a blistering headache and a strange note scribbled in his handwriting on his desk. goro’s asleep on the couch, and there’s two cold, stale cups of coffee downstairs next to a barely-touched game of chess. akira wonders, briefly, what had happened yesterday, and the note on his desk only complicates things. he thinks it over before shoving it in one of his drawers. he’ll come back to it later.)

(the cycle repeats.)

**Author's Note:**

> _抜け出せない 抜け出せない (we can't escape. we can't escape.)_  
>  _抜け出せないから 抜け出さない (we can't escape, so we won't escape.)_  
>  _抜け出さないから お目目閉じて. (we won't escape, so close your eyes.)_  
>  _二 一 ゼロ (2, 1, 0.)_
> 
> _落ちて落ちて 落ちてゆこうよ (let's fall, let's fall, let's fall and fall)_  
>  _あなぐらぐらしの渦の中 (into the vortex of this life of hole-dwelling)_  
>  _落ちて落ちて 落ちてゆこうよ (let's fall, let's fall, let's fall and fall)_  
>  _いっしょに仲良くどこまでも (together, like the best of friends, wherever it may take us.)_  
>  _おんなじ おんなじ おんなじじゃないか (the same, the same, are we not?)_  
>  _きみと僕とはいつまでも (you and me, forever and always)_  
>  _おんなじ おんなじ おんなじじゃないか (the same, the same, are we not?)_  
>  _いけない いけない さみしい さみしい (it's wrong. so wrong. but we're lonely.[so lonely.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I15sK7dNMOM))_
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacedlamp) & [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/lost.lapis/)!


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